


Just a useless Cuban boy (pure Langst)

by Octoozi



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe
Genre: Angst, Bottom Lance, Depression, Langst, M/M, No Smut, One Shot, Porn, Suggested Porn, The Bad Ending, Unnamed partner, cam model, not a good ending, not explicit, pure angst, rape/non con, suggested abuse, suggested cam model, suggested rape, this isn't going anywhere, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octoozi/pseuds/Octoozi
Summary: I wrote this a while ago and it's just pure Langst. Everything is suggested but nothing is really said, use your imagination? Lance is in a bad situation. Not a happy ending.





	Just a useless Cuban boy (pure Langst)

Lance watched the door be locked shut and took a deep breath telling himself to relax. As he stood and waited he became lost In thought.   
Lance was a nobody, he came from a poor family. A large family who he loved dearly but unfortunately he'd grown up on a run down street in Cuba. A street where the colourful houses ran off into the bare farm land. His small house consisted of two floors, three bedrooms, an old fashioned kitchen that linked to the living room through a doorway with no door and one bathroom with a shower bath that had been broken ever since he could count on his ten fingers. 

Lance vividly remembered chasing his cousins down the dusty road outside his house as they had played foot ball. They would play for hours wasting the day away, waiting for their fathers to come back and their mothers to make dinner. His mothers delicious meals were served every night as the sun began to disappear over the roof tops. Siblings, cousins, aunts, grandparents and his mother and father would sit most nights in the living room; on the couch, floor or around the coffee table watching their favourite quiz show that had become a comfort to lance as a child. They would shout at the tv and argue over the right answers more often than not they would get it wrong and then laugh it off.   
Because that's what Lance had been taught to do-to laugh things off his feelings, when he got something wrong or life wasn't shining down on him. Or 'god' as his catholic family would say but at a young age lance had decided there was no god. He had decided that if there was a god then why did his family have to live on a broken street, why did soldiers and thugs kill people In public, why were children playing with glassmarbels and why were the streets littered with the homeless? Why did he have to sleep on the floor?   
Of course as lance had grown up his resentment to the man in the sky had become more mature and well reasoned and instead of blaming people for what he didn't have he embraced what he did have.   
Lance had left home at 17. He dropped out of community collage in fear of becoming just another farmer and moved to North America. He used the money he had saved up and managed to buy himself a one room apartment in Brooklyn. It was small and uncomfortable but lance made do as he studied and scrounged every penny he could. His hard efforts however at becoming a pilot had failed. His friends had made it in with flying colours! This has made lance happy and proud for them however lance had merely come off as a joke to the garrison. A boy from Cuba? With no qualifications? He was a mockery.   
One thing led to another and now lance sat there in front of a camera. He gulped feeling his body chill to the bone as the tall man in front of him smiled. The figure held the camera and adjusted the lights before looking at lance. That was the signal. Lance quickly, carefully took off his shirt revealing his slender form. For a better future he thought. He kept a smile plastered on his face as he slowly stripped off the remainder of his clothes before showing a toothy grin. Smile. He'd never have to do this again he thought as he moved to the bed.   
He kept his attention to the camera as he talked, his mind was in a haze. He'd become a doll to fulfil the needs and desires of viewers and his 'employers'. Lance played his part, practically dancing for the camera, displaying himself with charm and cheek. Just another smile. Another laugh. Another face. Lance McClain.

**Author's Note:**

> Wupsies ´д` ;


End file.
